


By The Campfire

by spring_moons



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Chubby Bilbo, Dom!Thorin, Gruff Thorin, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Public Sex, Self-Lubrication, Shy Bilbo, Size Kink, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8662807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spring_moons/pseuds/spring_moons
Summary: Bilbo's cold. Thorin decides to warm him up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Edit: //This is an older story, but it’s of sentimental value to me and I can’t bring myself to delete it.// ******
> 
> ********
> 
> This story is NOT finished yet! I've been busy, what with school, art, and new family members, that I haven't had much time as of late.
> 
> I am updating it when I can, though!

Bilbo shivered in his thin, worn sleeping bag. The night was still young, but already a bitter chill had descended upon the camp, and poor little Bilbo, not used to harsh climates ((like his Dwarvish companions)) was taking the brunt of it.

The fire was still going, but it was low, and the little heat it managed to expel was utterly useless, never-mind the fact that Bilbo had politely asked to sleep on the outside of the circle, not wanting his companions to be cold. ((That damn Baggins' nature, of course.))

And now he was sorely regretting his decisions, feeling another violent shiver wrack his small body. The Dwarves were just fine, seeing as they were all fast asleep. Thorin was nowhere to be seen, but Bilbo assumed that, being the haughty soon-to-be-king he is, he wanted some privacy.

He whimpered a not-so-respectable word under his breath as the chilly wind picked up, whistling through the trees and rattling branches. The worn fabric of the sleeping bag did absolutely nothing to shield him from the assault, and he decided that he was going to get close to that fire, even if it meant going back on his earlier word.

Grunting, Bilbo began inching across the rocky, painful ground, his cold skin even more sensitive to the rocks and causing him to wince in discomfort and pain. Still, he concluded that the journey itself did not matter in this case. He _was _going to make it to that fire.__

He was about halfway there when the sound of footsteps caused him to lurch in surprise, nearly rolling into a curled up Ori. Grunting, he shifted in his sleeping bag and squinted through the dark to see that, in surprise, Thorin was standing there, watching him.

"Oh, g-goodness me! D-did I w-wake you? If so, I do a-apologize." Bilbo whispered through chattering teeth, feeling yet another series of shivers seize his body.

"No. You did not wake me, Master Burglar." Thorin replied bluntly, his voice low and rumbling. "I've been awake a while. I was keeping watch, and I noticed that you were cold."

"Aye." Bilbo replied, almost sarcastically. "Just a b-bit chilly out here, d-don't you think?"

Sensing the sarcastic undertones, the corner of Thorin's mouth twitched, and the burly Dwarf grunted. "Indeed. I meant that I could see you shaking even from my post. I was coming to offer you furs to keep you warm, since your kind is not as adapted to the weather as we are."

Taken aback, Bilbo lay there, trembling in his sleeping bag, and realized that warm, thick furs sounded _incredibly _nice right now. Even if they were Thorin's.__

"Er.....why, thank you! That sounds utterly d-delightful, Thorin." Bilbo replied, his slightly-blue lips curving up in a grateful smile. Thorin's expression was unreadable in the dark, but a low hum was what he got in response.

"Do you mind bringing them over? T-that would be lovely." The hobbit piped up, furrowing his brow as yet another shiver seized his small body.

Thorin didn't say anything for a moment. Then, he murmured, "No. You will have to come with me."

Bilbo spluttered in mild outrage, before he floundered stiffly around in his sleeping bag until he found his feet, crawling out. "Oh, alright, I suppose." He huffed, shivering as his warmth, feeble as it may be, was removed. "May we hurry? I don't much favor the idea of being frozen solid."

Thorin's silver-blue eyes shone in the campfire light as he studied Bilbo, before he nodded and turned, his furred cloak swishing and hissing as it was dragged along the stone. Bilbo padded after him, hugging himself tightly, cursing the weather under his breath, unable to think of anything but his warm cozy armchair by the fire. And hot tea. And maybe a nice biscuit or two...or three.

They reached a low outcropping of rock, and Thorin's small, private camp came into view. A makeshift mattress-like pile of furs was spread on the ground and against the rock, layered thickly, an extra blanket half-folded over the top. The king's bags were neatly clustered to the side, strategically placed to help conceal the Dwarf from the side. The outcropping of stone also proved as a lovely barrier against the biting wind.

Bilbo let out a loud sigh of relief, scampering over to the furs and dropping gratefully onto it, burrowing into the thick warmth and curling his toes.

"Master Baggins."

Bilbo flushed, realizing that leaping headfirst into Thorin's bedding probably wasn't polite, and he sheepishly sat up and began to inch off of them. "M-my apologies, Thorin, I'm just cold, I didn't mean-"

"I was simply going to ask you to move over a bit, Master Baggins. Not to leave."

Bilbo felt embarrassment flood over him, and he muttered, "Oh, right. O-of course. My apologies."

The little hobbit shifted and gave Thorin plenty of room, leaving just enough room for himself to be warm and comfortable. He heard rustling and felt the furs shift as the Dwarf lowered himself onto them, sighing as he got situated. Bilbo felt the thick blanket of outer furs being pulled over him, and he peeked over his shoulder, surprised.

Thorin had his back turned to him, but had pulled the blanket over both their bodies.

Bilbo smiled. "I suppose this is good night. Sleep well, Thorin." he quietly whispered. He only got a grunt in response, but he was fine with that, and snuggled into the furs.

* * * *

Bilbo couldn't sleep. Try as he might, he just couldn't. He tried to think soothing thoughts of home, but that only made him homesick. He tried to simply not think of anything at all, but his mind wouldn't have it, and sent him awful images of dragons and trolls and other quite unpleasant things.

He groaned quietly and shivered. Shivered? How was he cold? The furs were thick and soft and-

Oh.

Thorin had tugged away some of the furs, leaving the hobbit half-uncovered.

Bilbo opened his mouth to voice his discomfort ((politely, of course.)) But, on second thought, he closed his mouth and sighed through his nose, deciding to make do with the little warmth he had.

He soon managed to doze off, despite the chill and the deep breathing of a certain very important Dwarf-king laying beside him. He dreamt of nothing in the little time he slept, shifting restlessly and attempting to burrow into the furs in an attempt to escape the cold.

But, he soon awoke again, dry-mouthed and heavy headed. Groaning softly, he noticed in shock that Thorin had tugged away the rest of the furs, leaving him bare to the icy chill.

"How rude! He was supposed to provide warmth, not take it all!" Bilbo protested under his breath, narrowing his eyes and scrunching up his nose in a pout. He did not follow Thorin, through the cold, after a promise of warmth, only to have Thorin insensitively hog the furs.

And he was going to do something about that, damn it.

Steeling his nerves, the hobbit took the edge of the blanket and began to pull, waiting until there was enough for him to curl up under, and pressed up against Thorin's hard back, sighing as he was enveloped in warmth again.

He was beginning to comfortably nod off when Thorin grunted, shifted, and then rolled over to face him.

He felt the Dwarf jolt in surprise, and he smiled with a soft, "Hullo."

"What are you doing, master Baggins?" Thorin rumbled, staring at him under dark brows, looking just a tad confused as he adjusted himself, pulling the furs further over both of them.

"I was cold, is all." Bilbo replied calmly, deciding to leave out the part about Thorin hogging the furs. "And it's warm under here with you."

It may have been a trick of his tired eyes, but he thought he saw a strange glimmer in Thorin's gaze, an expression he wasn't able to identify spreading across the Dwarf's rather handsome features.

"Well, I suppose that's alright." Thorin murmured. "As long as you are warm and comfortable, that's all that matters."

Bilbo's heart soared at those words, and he covered his warm face with his hands. As he did so, he was surprised to feel Thorin's large, slightly calloused hands encircle his small wrists, pulling his hands away from his face and cupping them. The look in his eyes was gentle, but as he felt Bilbo's fingers, he furrowed his brow.

"You hobbits take forever to warm up, don't you? Your fingers are like ice." The Dwarf observed. "Here. This should help." And Bilbo felt himself pulled against the Dwarf, a strong, fuzzy arm encircling his waist, a hand cushioning the back of his head, fingers curling slightly in the soft, golden-brown curls. He was snuggled up against Thorin, who was much warmer than the furs.


End file.
